


Home for Christmas

by sir_kingsley



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Marine Dean Winchester, Married Castiel/Dean Winchester, Military Dean Winchester, Parent Castiel (Supernatural), Parent Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:28:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21960946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sir_kingsley/pseuds/sir_kingsley
Summary: Cas clutches the bat close as he tiptoes toward the kitchen, slowly lifting it over his shoulder as to not alert the invader of his hiding spot. Heart racing, Cas can only hold his breath and wait in position as the person drops something on the counter and moves closer to the doorway. Cas spares a moment to think that this person must be new to breaking and entering or just awful at it because they certainly haven’t been doing a decent job at staying quiet.The person creeps even closer and Cas’s fingers tighten around the bat. He shrinks back from the corner, raising the bar just that much higher as the person’s shadow crosses the threshold and he swings-“Hey- woah, woah, ow, Cas what the fuck?!”
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 32
Kudos: 355





	Home for Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Happy holidays everyone! Hope you're having a great holiday season so far and enjoy this little drabble!

Castiel waits about an hour after the kids fall asleep before he sneaks down the stairs, rolls or wrapping paper tucked under his arm. He fetches the secret stash of gifts from the hall closet — because if there’s one place he can count on the kids not poking around in, it’s the closet with all the cleaning supplies.

The living room is eerily quiet this time of night and dark aside from glow of the Christmas tree. He doesn’t dare turn on the overhead lights or else he’s sure to be ambushed by two pairs of little feet dashing dashing down the stairs. The dark and quiet usually don’t bother him so much. In fact, he used to find it quite romantic, sitting in the twinkling white lights, listening to nothing but the wind outside and falling snow if they were lucky. But that was when he had someone sitting beside him, lost in the mess of last-minute gift wrapping and staging a believable Santa visit. 

A quivering sort of sadness settles in his gut and draws his lips down in a frown. He spends a few minutes just sitting and staring at the pile of presents, the chill of loneliness seeping into his bones.

Then he shakes it off. Tells himself for the hundredth time this season that there’s no use wallowing over what can’t be changed. He grabs the scissors and tape and gets to work. 

Wrapping has never been his strong suit and there are definitely a few presents that come out looking a lot bigger than they actually are, but he carries on, keeping his mind busy and focused on cutting and folding. So busy that when a sound comes from the garage it doesn’t jar him at first.

But then there’s a crashing sound and Cas nearly stabs himself in the knee with the scissors. In a flash, he’s on his feet, scissors clutched tightly in his hand, and he waits, not even breathing.

It’s quiet for a few heartbeats and for a moment Cas thinks maybe he just imagined it. But then there’s the unmistakable sound of footsteps and Cas’s heart drops to his stomach. There’s someone in his garage. 

The panic rushes in without mercy, paralyzing Cas for what could be several crucial moments if he’s going to defend his home and family. He knows he needs to go grab something better than child-safe scissors and he should probably call someone. Yes, like the cops or his parents or his-

The footsteps get closer until he can hear someone fiddling with the door that connects the garage to the kitchen. They’re trying to break in. Something about that thought stirs Cas’s body into motion, but it’s like he tries to go in six difference directions at once, torn between going to fetch his phone, grab a better weapon, or run up the stairs to the kids. 

The soft click of the door opening snaps Cas into action. Without thinking he drops the scissors and moves back to the hall closet where an old baseball bat leans against a back corner. He clutches it close as he tiptoes toward the kitchen, slowly lifting it over his shoulder as to not alert the invader of his hiding spot. Heart racing, Cas can only hold his breath and wait in position as the person drops something on the counter and moves closer to the doorway. Cas spares a moment to think that this person must be new to breaking and entering or just awful at it because they certainly haven’t been doing a decent job at staying quiet. 

The person creeps even closer and Cas’s fingers tighten around the bat. He shrinks back from the corner, raising the bar just that much higher as the person’s shadow crosses the threshold and he swings-

“Hey- woah, woah, ow, Cas what the fuck?!”

The moment Cas hears his name the bat falls from his hand and he’s still not breathing but for an entirely different reason now. Because he knows that voice, knows it as well as his own, hears it even when they’re not in the same city, state, or country. 

“Dean?” he whispers, fingers reaching out toward the shadowy figure. 

The figure reaches back into the kitchen and light spills into the hall, illuminating the man before him. He stands there in crisply pressed dress blues, looking stern and intimidating but as he removes the hat Cas is met with soft green eyes and it’s like all the soldier melts out. 

“Dean,” Cas whispers again because it’s all he can seem to say.

Dean’s smile is as soft as his eyes as he says, “Hey, Cas,” and reaches for him.

Cas goes slowly but pliantly into his husband’s arms, face pressing into the crook of Dean’s neck like he belongs there. Because he does. More than anywhere else in the universe, he belongs right here. 

“I can’t believe you’re here,” he says into Dean’s neck. He doesn’t smell completely right, something just off of the man he knows, but he knows with just a few days of adjustment it’ll be back to the same spicy but calming scent he loves. 

Dean’s arms tighten around him. “I had to pull more than a few strings but every single one was worth it,” he says and kisses the side of Cas’s head. “To be here with you.”

Cas smiles for a moment but then he’s pulling back and smacking Dean in the chest. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me?” he demands, voice far too loud for Christmas Eve night. 

Dean immediately lifts a finger to his lips, his smile growing bigger even as he reminds his husband, “Shh, sweetheart, the kids.”

Cas just glares harder but lowers his volume when he repeats, “Why the hell didn’t you tell me you were going to be here? You said you couldn’t come home until March. What the fuck, Dean?”

When Dean doesn’t answer right away, just keeps smiling, Cas punches him again and then again until Dean is chuckling and forced to defend himself. “Okay,” he says, batting away Cas’s fists. “Okay, I didn’t- I wasn’t sure-”

“You’re such a dick,” Cas hisses, still swinging. “We just spoke last month and you said nothing, you fucking asshole-”

“Okay, okay, okay,” Dean says and finally catches Cas’s hands, holding them tight and safely away from his body. He’s still smiling even as Cas glares up at him. “I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to make it happen so I didn’t want to say anything,” Dean explains. “I didn’t want to get yours or the kids’ hopes up and then find out at the last second that I wouldn’t be able to come. I couldn’t do that to you again.” For the first time since he turned on the light, Dean’s eyes look sad and all the fury coursing through Cas evaporates.

Because he remembers the last time Dean has tried to make it home early only to be held overseas without even getting the option to give Cas a courtesy call. Cas has been left waiting at the airport for hours, and spent even more time in a constant panic as he waited days for a letter telling him Dean wasn’t hurt or dead, but on a new assignment.

Cas slides his arms back around Dean’s middle and pulls him close, this time Dean settling his face in Cas’s neck. He feels his husband relax against him, any last traces of stress or worry melting away. 

“I missed you,” Cas murmurs into Dean’s hair.

He can feel Dean’s smile against his neck. “Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea.”

Cas lets his hands roam up and down Dean’s back, just enjoying the feel of him, big and solid and here. Like a damn Christmas miracle. He laughs. “The kids are gonna think Santa brought you.”

He feels Dean laugh too until he pulls back with his big smile. “Guess you’ll have to put a bow on me,” he jokes, oh so quietly. 

Cas slides his hands up to cup Dean’s face. “I’m sure we can find one big enough,” he says and then kisses his husband at last.

The time they spend kissing in the doorway is healing, like every touch erases a moment of loneliness felt in the last eight months. But it’s not long. Because whether they like it or not, they still have work to do. 

They sneak up the stairs to get Dean cleaned up and changed into his soft Christmas pajamas. Then, Dean finishes wrapping the gifts — which look much neater than Cas’s — while Cas sets up the presents from Santa — a bike for Juniper and a monstrous Paw Patrol tower for Caydon.

“We’re gonna regret that by New Years,” Dean says from behind him. 

Cas snorts with laughter. “Yeah, no shit.” He tosses a grin over his shoulder. “But it’ll be worth seeing his smile tomorrow morning.”

Dean’s smile agrees with him. “I think you mean today.”

Cas glances at the clock on the wall and sure enough it’s nearing one in the morning. “I hadn’t realized how late it was.” 

Dean groans as he climbs to his feet, clearing up the wrapping supplies. “Time flies when you’re doing Santa’s work.” He stops to pluck one the the cookies off the plate left out for the jolly toy maker, winking at Cas as he bites off the top half of a snowman. 

Cas follows after him with the rest of the evidence from their makeshift Santa’s shop and they stash everything in the hall closet. Dean picks up the baseball bat with a grin and puts it up as well.

“Can’t believe you were gonna clobber me with my own bat.”

Cas crosses his arms and sniffs. “I thought you were a burglar.” 

Dean chuckles and kisses Cas’s forehead. “You were very brave, darlin’.” 

Cas pouts. “Don’t patronize me.” He’s not able to stay mad long though as Dean keeps grinning at him, here in hall and it shouldn’t feel significant because it’s just a hallway, but it does because it’s their home and Dean is here with him. It’s enough to pull tears to Cas’s eyes and he feels ridiculous all over again. Nothing new there, though. Dean’s always had a way of making Cas’s heart twirl in circles. “Are you hungry,” he asks, leaning toward the kitchen. Dean’s stomach grumbles as if on que and Cas laughs. “Guess that’s a yes.”

They wander into the kitchen where Dean digs into the large plate of Christmas cookies while Cas pulls leftovers from the fridge. They both settle on a stool and Cas steals the cookies from Dean in exchange for a plate of real food and he watches with an absurd amount of bliss as he husband eats. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Dean asks after a few bites and brings a hand to his lips. “Is there something on my face?”

Cas shakes his head. “No. I just like looking at you.”

“Sap,” Dean accuses and takes another bite.

“Guilty as charged,” Cas murmurs and loves the way redness rises in Dean’s cheeks. 

Once Dean has finished, Cas takes the dishes and puts them in the sink. They can wait until morning. He turns and leans against the counter, studying his husband as he just sits as their kitchen island, looking soft and comfortable in his pajamas, perfect normal and domestic. 

“Part of me wants to run up the stairs and wake the kids,” Cas says quietly.

Dean’s eyes float upwards where he knows their children are sleeping soundly. “Me too.”

“But the rest of me just wants to keep you to myself,” Cas finishes even quieter, almost ashamed. He bites his lip. “Is that bad?”

When he looks up, Dean’s smile is small and understanding and just for him. “No, sweetheart.” He stands and comes around the island and Cas doesn’t breathe until Dean is pressed against him again. “It’s not bad. I feel the exact same way.” His breath whispers against the shell of Cas’s ear, making him shiver. “I missed you so much, Cas. All I could think about the entire way here was how badly I wanted to see you.” Cas feels a featherlight kiss land in his hair. “Hold you.” A kiss to his temple. “Dance with you.” A kiss to his nose. “Kiss you.” Cheek. “Endlessly.” Other cheek. “Forever.” 

When his lips finally land on Cas’s, Cas fists his hands into Dean’s shirt, slipping underneath so he can feel the heat of Dean’s stomach. Dean kisses him slowly and sensually, savoring each second and wishing so badly they could make it last forever.

When they finally separate, it’s disorienting, like they’ve forgotten how to function without the other and Cas loves it, loves the dizziness and giddiness he feels and knowing that only Dean can make him feel that way. Loves knowing that only he can give that feeling to Dean. 

“We should probably head to bed,” Dean whispers.

Cas hums. “Probably. But first...” He reaches into his pocket for his phone. “I believe there’s one more thing you said you wanted but haven’t gotten yet.”  
Dean quirks a curious brow. “Can’t really imagine wanting anything besides this.” He fingers dig a little deeper into Cas’s hips as if to make a point.

Cas sifts through his phone until he finds what he wants and the telltale signs of Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas start to chime through the kitchen. “I believe you said something about dancing.”

And whatever soft look he thought Dean had before just gets softer. Cas takes Dean’s hands and wrap them around him, returning the gesture so he’s hugging Dean’s chest to him. Dean follows his lead easily, head bending to rest of Cas’s shoulder and he sways in time with Frank Sinatra’s croon. 

“Merry Christmas, Cas,” he whispers.

“Merry Christmas, Dean.”

In the morning, Cas wakes Dean up just early enough to sneak him down the stairs and does in fact attach a bow to his head. It’s not long until they hear the pitter-patter of excited feet upstairs. 

“Papa, it’s Christmas!” they hear Juniper shout.

“I know, sweetheart, come downstairs!” Cas calls back with a large grin.

And absolutely no amount of willpower can keep back the tears when the two kids race down the stairs until to slide to a short stop when they see Dean sitting next to the tree. 

“Daddy?” Juniper asks in a whisper, eyes squinting. 

“Merry Christmas,” Dean smiles.

And both kids are off like a shot, diving into their father’s arms and knocking him back into the tree. Cas can only laugh and cry as he watches his family come back together, the way they always should be. 

Somehow in all the madness Dean catches his eye and extends a hand. Cas takes it and lets himself be dragged into the dogpile, loving every little giggle and whimper and whispers of I missed you and I love you.

Dean holds his hand tightly and manages to wriggle away long enough to press a kiss to the corner of Cas’ s lips. “This might be the best Christmas yet.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re getting all the attention,” Cas teases. But he leans in and steals another kiss. “But I think you’re right.” 

“Eww,” Caydon cries when he sees them kissing again. 

Dean and Cas roll their eyes but separate. “Okay, you two,” Cas says, leaning back and clapping his hands together. He smiles at the picture his kids make lying in their father’s arms. “Let’s see what else Santa brought you.”


End file.
